


The Actual Happy Place

by wingsfromthewater



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: But also, Eliot is too good for his own good, Episode: s03e05 A Life in the Day, Gay Parents, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mosaic, Parents, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-05 14:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsfromthewater/pseuds/wingsfromthewater
Summary: Their actual happy place is a cottage in the woods with brightly colored shutters where three idiots lived out their lives together.





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Between the nonsense that was the last episode and some weird stuff that has been happening in my personal life, I just want to spend all my spare time in my happy place.
> 
> Please excuse typos or feel free to point them out so I can fix them. I was typing fast.
> 
> I'm probably going to keep coming back to this and writing scenes or little ficlets but I'm going to try and give each one some what of an ending so I don't leave anyone hanging.

“Come on, Q. It’s time to get up.”

“Leave me alone, Eliot.”

“I’m serious, Q. It’s getting cold and you are going to freeze to death if you stay there all night.”

“Go away,” said Quentin , flopping his arm in Eliots general direction. He was laying in the bed next to the mosaic. He was covered in vibrant silk and velvet blankets so that only one listless arm and his face, staring blankly at the mosaic, where exposed.

“It has been two months,” said Eliot, standing with his hands on his hips. It was dark but even in the firelight it was clear that he was worried. “This was perfectly acceptable behavior in August but it is October now and I don’t see how freezing to death is going to help anything.” 

“Maybe it would,” mumbled Quentin , tilting his face down to hide it in the pillows. 

“Oh no you don’t, Coldwater. You’re not giving up on me,” said Eliot. He began to move his hands in an intricate pattern and he suddenly began to glow a dim, flickering orange like embers were lit under his skin.

He walked around the bed, lifted the covers and slid in next to Quentin until he was pressed against his back. He wrapped an arm around Quentin’s middle holding him tightly. Quentin hadn’t realized how cold he was until he felt the warmth emanating from Eliot’s arm. The guilty part of his mind thought how nice it was to be held so tight, to feel safe and secure and tethered to the ground. 

“Fuck,” Eliot hissed. “You’re feet are freezing.”

“Sorry,” said Quentin, move his feet away.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Eliot. “I’m here to warm you up. Stop wiggling away.” He hooked a leg over Quentin’s shins sandwiching Quentin’s icy feet in warm ones. 

Quentin exhaled a shaky breath. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably not true,” said Eliot. “Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about so I can tell you how you’re wrong?”

“What if I can’t do it?” Quiten said softly. “What if I can’t raise him alone? What if I’m a terrible dad?”

“Q, you’re a great dad. You’re loving and caring and you want what’s best for him,” said Eliot, smiling. “I know because I’ve seen it. You’re so good with him.” 

“But,” said Quiten, tensing.

“Shhh,” said Eliot, his breath raising the hairs on the back of Quentin’s neck. “I’m not done.”

Quentin relaxed after a moment and Eliot continued. “You aren’t going to raise him alone. I am always going to be here for you.” 

Quentin swallowed hard, the tears prickling at his eyes. He put his hand over Eliot’s where it rested on his stomach and held on tight. 

***  
“I could climb in there and keep you warm again all night like I did last night but it looks like rain so get up and come inside right now,” said Eliot in his most imperious and kingly voice.

Quentin squinted up at him. “Where’s Teddy?”

Eliot knelt on the ground next to Quentin so he could look him in the eye. He pushed a stray lock of hair away from Quentin’s eye. “I tucked him in to bed a little bit ago. He’s fast asleep.” 

Quentin smiled a little. “What would I do without you?” 

“You would manage,” said Eliot. “But luckily you don’t have to." Eliot stood and took Quentin’s hand. “Come on.”

Quinton stood and Eliot led him back to the cottage, through the door and the beaded curtain. Inside, Teddy lay snug in his trundle bed surrounded by billowy white quilts and clutching his bear. The trundle bed was side by side to the large bed that Arielle and Quentin had shared. It had been given to them as a gift when they first married and he’d never slept in it without her.

Teddy had outgrown his crib only last fall. They had made the trundle bed and every night would pull it out from under the larger bed. It sat alongside the larger bed so Quentin and Arielle had needed to crawl into bed from the foot of the bed, every time giggling to each other as they crawled up the length of the bed to sleep. 

Now, Eliot led Quiten around the trundle to the end of the larger bed. The light from the fireplace illuminated the small room with a soft glow. Quentin had discovered a knack for woodworking and Arielle painted everything in her reach in her spare time so, though the room was small and simple, every surface was covered in warm colors and intricate designs. The large bed was covered in a yellow bedspread and brightly colored cushions and Eliot's smaller bed by the fire had a deep red velvet cover that he came back from the market with and never told where it had come from. 

Quentin stared around the room as though lost though he knew each item in the room, having made most of them. He clung to Eliot’s hand as the only thing keeping him from getting lost in the memories. 

“Go on,” said Eliot, whispering to keep from waking Teddy. “Get in.”

Quentin moved automatically, kneeling on the tall bed and crawling over as he had done so many times. He stopped in the middle, sitting on his heels and turning to look at Eliot. 

“Stay with me?” he said, reaching out a hand time him. 

“Sure, Q,” said Eliot, making his way up to sit next to him.

Quentin slid under the covers leaving room for Eliot next to him. As he drifted off to sleep, he reached out and held on to Eliot’s arm. 

The next morning, Eliot woke to see Quentin standing at the kitchen table, whisking scrambled eggs and probably making a huge mess. The smell of bacon sizzling in a pan on the fire filled the air. Teddy stood on a chair by the table watching as Quentin mixed the eggs. Quentin handed the fork to Teddy so he could mix, steading the bowl as he worked and laughing when bits of egg flopped out of the bowl on to the rough wooden table.

Eliot’s heart squeezed as he watched, so incredibly happy to see Q laughing with his son again and longing so desperately to join them. He wanted nothing more than to walk up behind Quentin and wrap his arms around his waist, nuzzle his neck and tell him to stop making a goddamn mess of his kitchen table. 

But that wasn’t his place.

Even before Arielle, even when their nights were spent wrapped in each others arms and doing everything but sleeping, the mornings meant there had to be space between them again. 

Because, Eliot knew if he allowed himself to cross that line, he’d never be able to give Q up.

And Eliot knew that he alone would never be enough for Quentin.

So he watched from his warm spot under the covers, fingers tangled in the sheets where Q had been minutes before, and he was grateful for what he did have.


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 4x12 royally pissed me off so I wrote some stuff. (Apparently, being this angry makes me want to write. Who knew?) So I'm back to my happy place. I just banged this one out after the episode aired (so like in the last 3 hours) so I am sure there are hella typos. If you see any, point them out. I'll most likely fix it in the morning.

Eliot lay on his back, mostly asleep, when he felt Quentin’s tentative fingers reach out and touch his forearm. He reached his other hand over and laid it reassuringly on Quentin’s hand, holding it place.

“Sorry El,” whispered Quentin. “Were you asleep?”

“Only mostly,” Eliot said, stifling a yawn. He gently rubbed the back of Quentin’s hand where it still rested on his arm. Quentin was silent but he was stiff and clearly still awake and wanting to talk about something. After laying silently for far to long, considering the time of night, Eliot said, “I’m awake now. What is it?”

Quentin shifted a little to get a better look at Eliot. “Well, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve…”

Eliot stifferened. His fingers froze where they had been circling Quentin’s knuckles. 

“I know Christmas wasn’t the best for you as a kid, and I know we’ve never celebrated it before and we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Quentin said in a fast whisper. “But it might be, you know, nice.”

“Wasn’t the best is a massive understatement in this situation,” said Eliot. He was fully awake now and staring up at the shadowy beams of the cottage roof. Quentin slid his hand down Eliot’s arm interlacing his fingers with Eliots. 

“Forget I said anything,” said Quentin. Long moments passed while Quentin held Eliot’s hand between his, rubbing his cold fingers. He was beginning to get drowsy when Eliot turned to him.

“Ok, Q. We’ll do Christmas,” he turned to his side and looked a Quentin’s beaming face in the dim light. He tucked his hands up under his head to prop himself up and settle in to watch Quentin plan excitedly. 

“We should get a tree, just a little one,” said Q, trying to keep his voice down despite his excitement. He absentmindedly tapped Eliot's arm as he spoke. We can teach Teddy some Christmas songs and make cookies. We can read him the Night Before Christmas.”

“How are we going to read him a book we don’t have?” asked Eliot.

“I think I remember most of it,” said Quentin. “And if I mess it up, he won’t know the difference.” Quentin paused for a moment. “We don’t have to do presents,” he said.

“I have that toy I’ve been working on for Teddy,” said Eliot. “I don’t think he’s seen it yet. And I actually have something I’ve been meaning to give you too. Christmas is as good a time as any to give it to you.”

“Thanks, El,” said Quentin, holding on to Eliot’s arm and rubbing his wrist with his thumb.

“I haven’t given you anything yet,” said Eliot, grinning despite himself. 

“No, I mean. Thanks for playing a long,” said Quentin. “I know Christmas has been bad for you. So, thanks.” He looked at Eliot in that way that made him look like a tiny puppy but also made him want to kiss Quentin senseless and therefore should be illegal. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll make some good memories for you.”

“Go to sleep, Coldwater,” said Eliot. “There’s only two more sleeps til Christmas.”

Quentin took Teddy out to cut down a tree right after breakfast the next morning. That gave Eliot time to finish up the gift he had been sewing for Teddy. Eliot had realized he enjoyed sewing when he and Quentin had realized the clothes they’d started this quest in weren’t going to cut it for much longer. Eliot had gone in to the village to find replacements but he quickly realized that they were in the most fashion backwards province in Fillory. So he took it upon himself to start making their clothes. He’d practiced on a patchwork quilt with a simple square design. He picked up the sewing spells quickly enough but he sometimes still enjoyed sewing by hand. He found it cleared his mind the way that copious amounts of booze used to but was much better on his liver.

He’d just finished Teddy’s gift and hidden it away when the door swung open and a gust of snow flew in to the room followed by Quentin carrying the tiniest pine tree. Teddy followed, toddling along carrying a pile of pine boughs and holly branches.

Eliot walked over, taking branches out of Teddy’s hands before helping him take his mittens and coat off. He smirked at Quentin. “Did you intentionally find the most Charlie Browniest tree you could?”

“Yes, actually,” replied Quentin proudly. “I remember you saying, one of the few things you actually enjoyed about Christmas was watching the Charlie Brown Christmas Special, so I thought we could act it out for Teddy.” 

“That’s actually very sweet,” said Eliot, walking over to Quentin and brushing snowflakes off his knit hat. “Of all the Quentin Coldwaters in the world, you’re the Quentin Coldewaterest.”

Quentin looked up at Eliot, blushing. Or maybe his cheeks were just pink from being out in the cold. Either way, it looked good on him. Q held up the tree between him and Eliot. “Where should we put this?”

Eliot looked down at the tree again and noticed for the first time that it was in bucket. “Why is that tree in a bucket?” asked Eliot. 

“Teddy got upset when I was about to chop it down,” said Quentin. “He made me dig it up instead so we can replant it”

Eliot knelt to pick up Teddy. “Of course you wouldn’t let your mean old Daddy cut down a tree, no sir. I dub thee, Sir Tedward protector of the Trees,” he said, tickling Teddy until he giggled and squirmed to be let down. “Now, Sir Tedward, would you like some hot chocolate?”

“What is that, the fourth title you’ve given him?” asked Quentin.

“Fifth, I think,” said Eliot.

“You should be careful, El. Those titles might be official. You still are kind of the high king,” said Quentin.

“I don’t think so,” said Eliot. “Otherwise, you and I wouldn’t have been able to…” Eliot glanced at Quentin and at Teddy and then back at Quentin.

“Hot chocolate,” said Quentin.

“Yes, hot chocolate,” said Eliot.

They baked cookies and drank hot chocolate and then Quentin kicked Eliot out of the cottage. 

“You need to go for a walk,” said Quentin, handing Eliot his hat and coat. 

“Why do I need to go for a walk suddenly?” asked Eliot.

“You could use some fresh air,” said Quentin.

“There is an actual blizzard out there right now,” said Eliot.

“Just a half an hour,” said Quentin, opening the door and pushing Eliot out. 

Eliot peered in the window as he trudged through the snow. He watched Quentin scoop Teddy up from the floor where he had been playing and slide a fresh sheet of paper and some crayons in front of him. He sat down next to Teddy with his own sheet of paper and the two of them bent to their work. 

‘Oh, well,’ thought Eliot. ‘Two can play at this game.’

Eliot wandered around the edge of the forest for exactly half an hour before bursting in to the cottage with no warning, watching Quentin basically throw himself at the table to keep Eliot from seeing what he’d been working on. 

“Alright, your turn,” said Eliot, shoving Quentin out the door. 

After dinner, as Quentin and Eliot were cleaning up the dishes, Teddy began following Quentin around saying, “Is it storytime yet, Daddy?” This was a typical evening routine. Teddy would follow Quentin around asking for stories while he and Eliot cleaned up. Eventually, once all the chores for the day were taken care of, the would settle in front of the fire and Quentin would tell Teddy a story. He whittled as he spoke and the wooden blocks in his hands would become the characters from the stories he told. Teddy had Fillory’s only Star Wars figurines. Eliot loved story time as much as Teddy. He would happily spend hours listening to Quentin’s voice and watch his hands move as he carved.

Tonight, when Teddy began begging for a story, Eliot said, “Oh, go ahead Q. I’ll finish this up.” 

He moved around the kitchen gathering plates and pans, putting them in the tub and preparing to do a scouring spell. He was thinking about how this was definitely the best Christmas Eve he had ever had and he was actually sort of looking forward to Christmas. 

He didn’t noticed until he turned around and saw Quentin and Teddy looking at him that they hadn't started the story yet. “Alright, what is going on here?” he asked as he came to sit in his chair. A blue blanket was folded on the seat with a red ball sitting on it. 

“We couldn’t start the story without the star of the show,” said Quentin mischievously. He turned to Teddy. “Once upon a time, there was a misunderstood boy named Charlie Brown. He never felt like he truly fit in with his friends.” As he spoke, he began to carve. He told the story of Charlie Brown talking to Lucy about his problems and then going to Linus. He talked about all the kids at the Christmas show and described how each of them danced in great detail. As he spoke, each character appeared, carved out of wood. He talked about how Charlie Brown was supposed to get a Christmas tree but picked the tiniest, ugliest one of them all.

“So, Charlie Brown tried to fix his mistake. He took a blue scarf and tucked it around the bottom of the tree.” Quentin looked at Eliot. “Come on, Charlie,” he said. “Put the blanket around the tree.” Eliot stood and tucked the blanket carefully around the bottom of the tree. “Then Charlie Brown took a red ornament and put it on the top of the tree.” Eliot took the red ball, which had a little loop of ribbon attached to it and placed it on the top of the tree. Just as in the show, the top of the tree tilted sadly to the side. “Charlie Brown was only trying to help but he felt like everything he did made things worse. He was so sad, there was only one word to express it,” said Quentin.

“Arrrrrg!” said Eliot, trying not to laugh. 

“But then, all of Charlie Brown’s friends came and helped decorate the tree and together, they made the most beautiful tree any of them had ever seen.” Teddy and Quentin gathered up all the figurines Quentin had carved and placed them carefully in the boughs of the tree. Eliot did a little spell that made the tips of the pine needles glow a soft gold. 

Quentin stood, holding Teddy who was transfixed by the tree. Eliot came to stand next to them, draping an arm around Quentin’s shoulders and leaning his cheek against the top of Quentin’s head. 

“This is the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen,” said Eliot. Quentin leaned in to him, just a little. 

“I feel like we should sing or something,” said Quentin. Eliot laughed and pulled him and Teddy in to an actual hug. He noticed Teddy leaning in to Quentin’s shoulder, his eyelids beginning to droop.

“I think if you wanted to tell him ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, you should probably do it now.” 

Quentin tucked Teddy in to bed. He got to visions of sugar plums when he noticed Teddy’s eyelids flutter closed. Which was okay because he wasn't sure what came next anyway. 

Quentin and Eliot were woken at an ungodly hour by Teddy’s shouts.

“Someone put stuff in our socks!” he screeched, jumping in to their bed. “Was it Santa?” 

The three socks they had nailed to the mantle the night before were filled but of course Quentin and Eliot had done that after Teddy had gone to bed.

“Of course it was Santa,” said Quentin. “Who else would it be?”

“Can we open them?” asked Teddy.

“Sure,” said Eliot. “Just bring them over.”

Teddy ran over to the fireplace and began jumping trying to reach the stockings. Quentin squinted at him blearily from where he was still mostly buried in the covers. “Help him out before he jumps in to the fire, would you?” he said to Eliot.

“Fine,” said Eliot, sitting up. “Teddy, stop jumping. Hold still and put your hands out.” Eliot made a pinching motion with his fingers and the nail popped out of the mantle sending his stocking falling in to Teddy’s hands, the nail floating up to sit on top of the mantle. 

“Show off,” said Quentin, grinning.

“Bring me my stocking,” said Eliot, imperiously. 

Teddy ran to the bed with the stocking and then back to the fireplace. When all the stockings had been retrieved he snuggled under the covers between Quentin and Eliot. His first gift was a stuffed unicorn Eliot made for him. It looked exactly like the unicorn he and Teddy had seen the summer before. Teddy had been fascinated by the unicorn and had cried when it ran away. Teddy snuggled the soft unicorn for a moment before opening his second gift, a dragon carved by Quentin and enchanted to fly when a key on its belly was turned. In no time, Teddy was at the foot of the bed, orchestrating an epic dragon versus unicorn battle. That left Quentin and Eliot in relative peace to open their gifts.

Quentin’s stocking had two small, circular items. He pulled out the first one and opened it. It was a clay impression of Teddy’s hand that had clearly been painted by Teddy himself.

“Oh so is this what you kicked me out yesterday to work on?” asked Quentin, bumping his shoulder in to Eliot’s.

“Yes, well, all parents on Earth have about a thousand of these,” said Eliot. “I figured you should at least have one.”

“Thank you, Eliot,” said Quentin, his eyes beginning to look a little misty. He began to reach for the second gift but Eliot grabbed his hand. 

“Maybe we should wait for our gifts until later,” said Eliot. 

“Um, sure,” said Quentin, confused. He wiped at his eye with a free hand. “You can open Teddy’s now though. It’s the card.”

Eliot pulled the card from his stocking. The front had a picture of him, clearly drawn by a four year old hand. Eliot could tell it was him because he was wearing a pointed yellow crown. He opened the card and inside it read:

10 Things We Love About Eliot  
He takes care of us when we have owies.  
He makes us good food.  
He has very good fashion sense.  
He’s fun to play with.  
He’s a good listener.  
He has a good singing voice.  
He’s very funny.  
He’s a good dad.  
He gives the best hugs.  
We always know he’ll be there for us.  
Love, Teddy and Q

Quentin watched as Eliot read the list. He watched his eyes well up and his hand cover his mouth. And then Eliot reached over and grabbed Quentin pulling him into a tight hug and tucking his head under his chin. 

“This is literally the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” he said, kissing the top of Quentin’s head. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he leapt out of bed and picked up Teddy swinging him around before kissing his forehead. “Thank you for my Christmas present,” he said. 

“Did we do a good present?” Teddy asked.

“Yes, you did,” said Eliot.

The rest of Christmas day passed as many of their winter days had. Snow continued to fall so they could not work on the mosaic. Once they snow stopped, they could clear it using snow removal spells but it was easier to wait until it was all done. The spells were annoying to do because snow only moves when it wants to.

Teddy spent the day playing with his new toys, coloring with Quentin while Quentin worked on new mosaic patterns to try and helping and hindering chores.

After dinner, Quentin told Teddy the story of Rudolph. He tucked him in and tried to tell him more of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas but this time got stuck on the ‘arose such a clatter’ part.

As he approached the fire, Eliot slid from his chair and sat on the floor. Quentin sat on the floor to join him. Eliot handed him a glass of whiskey.

He clinked his glass against Quentin’s. “To the best Christmas ever,” he said softly. 

‘It’s not done yet,” said Quentin, handing Eliot his stocking. 

Eliot set down his drink and pulled out the package inside. He opened it carefully and held it up to the firelight. It was a small bust of Margo complete with a plaque underneath which said, ‘Queen Margo-The Destroyer.’ Quentin had followed the natural grain of the wood so that her hair was carved from darker wood than her skin. He’d painted her eyepatch and her lips to match her favorite lipstick. And he had gotten her defiant face perfect. 

“Bambi,” said Eliot. He turned to look at Quentin. “This is beautiful. You’re an actual artist, aren’t you?” 

Quentin blushed and looked down at his hands. “Do you think I got her facial expression right? I tried so many times but I thought this was the best one.”

“You did perfect,” said Eliot. He leaned against Quentin and stared happily at Margo’s face. “I miss her so much,” he said his voice wavering a little. 

“I know,” said Quentin. 

They sat together, leaning against each other for a long time. 

“Ok. It’s your turn,” said Eliot resignedly, holding out Quentin’s stocking. 

Quentin pulled out the circular object and unwrapped it. It was an embroidery hoop but he’d opened it flipped over so all he could see was the back. He turned it over in his hands and gasped. Because it was a perfect rendering of Arielle’s face made with tiny stitches in colored thread. Quentin immediately began breathing hard, his eyes filling with tears they way he used to when he cried all the time but didn’t want Teddy to hear it. The way he’d cried every night for weeks after she’d died. 

“Q, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” said Eliot hands reaching out to grasp Quentin’s shoulders. “I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry… I just thought.”

Quentin reached a hand up to grasp Eliot’s hand on his shoulder. He shook his head, staring at Arielle’s face. His thumb ran over and over the smooth silkiness of the stitches. 

He shook his head again. “No, I…” his voice shook and tears ran down his face. He took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he whispered. “It’s hard but it’s good. I’m ok. Or, I’m more ok than I was. I’m glad… I’m glad to have this.” He reached an arm up over Eliot’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. They sat like that for long time, until Eliot’s legs began to get numb and he suggested they go to bed. Quentin fell asleep curled into a tight ball with his forehead pressed against Eliot’s chest and a hand twisted in Eliot’s shirt. Eliot wrapped himself around Quentin protectively. 

As Eliot fell asleep, he thought, ‘This is how Christmas should be. Laughter and tears but more laughter than tears and ending the day with the people you care about most.'


	3. Early Spring Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do I like writing about these two cuddling in bed so much? Oh right, because I just want an entire episode of the Magicians where they just take naps and eat good food and read some books and cuddle because they deserve it!

Quentin walked in to the cottage, brushing past the beads in the doorway. The sun shone brightly, making the little cottage even more lively and bright than usual. Arielle, who was sitting at the kitchen table rolling out pie dough, looked up at him and smiled. Quentin thought, not for the first time how lucky he was to be here in this cozy little cottage with the girl he loves and his best friend. He glanced over at his bed and was startled to see Eliot, sprawled out in on top of it, his eyes hooded and wanting as Quentin took a step towards him. A movement at the table made Quentin look back to see Alice sitting where Arielle had been a moment before. 

Quentin blinked and Arielle was back, smiling at him. Except the tips of her fingers were starting to go black with tendrils that were snaking up her arms. Just as had happened when she had touched the cursed mushroom and died. 

Died. Dead. Arielle was dead. But she was sitting right in front of him dying all over again. The tendrils were appearing from under the neckline of her dress. She was going to die all over again and there was nothing Quentin could do. Dead. She was dead. Quentin felt frozen, not even able to scream for help or cry. But he couldn’t watch her die again.

“No,” he yelled, eyes flying open to stare blankly into the dark. He was in his bed. Arielle had died. Eliot was next to him. Eliot. Had he heard Quentin? Was he awake?

Quentin heard the slight rustle of sheets and blankets and Eliot turned towards him. He slid his arm across Quentin’s stomach and rested it there, a protective presence in the dark. Quentin waited for long moments for Eliot to say something, to ask him what was wrong. Eventually, his stillness and the evenness of his breathing convinced him that Eliot hadn’t woken up. He’d heard Quentin calling out and the subconscious part of his brain had reached out to comfort him.

Quentin swallowed hard, filled with gratitude at the utter selflessness of the person sleeping beside him. He would have never thought at their first meeting that this overly confident, beautiful, ethereal man could also be so kind and caring. 

Moments later, Quentin was filled with crashing waves of crushing guilt at thinking these thoughts, of sharing his bed with Eliot, on the anniversary of his marriage to his wife. 

Quentin turned to his side as slowly as he could, needing space to breath his own air but not wanting to wake Eliot. A few moments later, Eliot, still apparently asleep, moved closer, tucking himself along Quentin’s back and holding him with a strong arm. 

Quentin was instantly filled with warmth and calm. Well, Eliot had been here first really. And it may have only ever been Eliot if he hadn’t made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with Quentin. If he hadn’t told Quentin, he should live his life. Which made what was happening now a little confusing. But Eliot’s slow breathing and warm body were so soothing that Quentin let go of those thoughts and fell back to sleep.


	4. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to be posting this now, especially when I know what the writers are likely to do to us tomorrow. But stories have to have conflict, right?
> 
> Also, I know there is some overly emotional and soppy language in this and I don't know where it came from. I must have been possessed. But I'm keeping it for posterity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, after the finale last night, I feel truly terrible for having posted this without the last two chapters prepared and ready to post. I have two more chapters roughly planned out in my head and I do plan on writing and posting them but it will take me a little bit of time. I'm definitely going to need a little emotional distance from this before I can do this justice. 
> 
> So guys, take care of yourselves in whatever way that means for you.

The weather turned warm, the snow melted and work began on the mosaic again, but with slower progress than before. Teddy, who always wanted to be involved in everything, wanted to help with the mosaic so Quentin began to show him how to copy the mosaic on to the sheets of paper to keep track of what they had already tried. He also decided that he needed to teach Teddy to read, so he started writing short, simple stories for Teddy to practice with. 

Eliot began teaching Teddy basic levitation spells and spells to snuff out candles. One afternoon, as Quentin sat at the mosaic laying out tiles, he paused for a moment to watch Eliot and Teddy staring intensely at a leaf. He realized that Teddy had Eliot’s exact expression of focus and determination that he'd seen when Eliot was working on a difficult spell or solving a complex problem as High King. 

When Teddy finally levitated the leaf for the first time, Quentin leapt to his feet cheering and Eliot picked Teddy up off the bench, swinging him in circles and laughing. They stopped work on the mosaic early that night in order to pick berries for Teddy’s favorite dessert. 

So things moved slowly. But the mosaic became less important than taking the time to watch Teddy grow up.

***

Arielle had had two brothers and three sisters who all had their own families and between them had fourteen children. Arielle’s parents had begun the tradition many years ago of having all of their grandchildren come to stay at their big house at the orchard for a few weeks every spring. Some of Arielle’s siblings had moved far away so the annual gathering gave a chance for the cousins to get to know each other and for the grandparents to make sure they were all being raised the way that they thought they should. 

The night was warm and Eliot had all the doors and windows wide open to allow the fresh air to move through the cottage. It was late and he was reading in bed, half nodding off before jerking his head up to continue. Quentin had taken Teddy to the annual gathering but had planned to come back the same night. Eliot was hoping Quentin would get back soon because he felt a little strange going to sleep before he got home. 

Eliot jerked awake again as he heard the beads at the door rattle. 

“What are you doing, sleeping with all the doors and windows wide open?” demanded Quentin. “Anyone could just walk in here.”

“But it wasn’t just any one,” said Eliot, speech a little slurred from sleepiness. “It was you, Quentin Coldwater.” 

“You are ridiculous,” said Quentin, trying to hide his amusement but failing miserably. He reached over the bed to take the book that had fallen open on Eliot’s chest. “Were you reading my Fillory book?” he asked, even though it was clear that Eliot was. 

“I thought I should try and see what you see in them,” said Eliot, stifling a yawn. “They could do with some more singing and maybe some dancing dryads but overall it’s not too bad.”

Eliot watched as Quentin moved around the room, closing windows and banking the fire. It was soothing to have someone else quietly move around the room while he sprawled in bed, half asleep. It had been very quiet without Quentin here all day and Eliot would have been disappointed if they went straight to sleep without talking or anything. So he did his best impression of a starfish and spread out across the bed, feigning sleep with a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

He heard Quentin walk across the room to stand next to the bed. “Ok, Eliot. Move over,” he said, pushing Eliot’s arm out of the way and watching while Eliot flopped back in to the exact spot before Quentin could get in to bed. Quentin tried again and watched as again, Eliot flopped his arm back. His eyes were still shut but he was fully smiling at this point.

“Fine,” said Quentin. “You want to keep your arm there, then you’ll just have to deal with the consequences.” And he got himself into bed and laid himself down on top of Eliot’s arm, attempting to sprawl out just as much as Eliot.

But Quentin underestimated Eliot’s ability to sprawl and, in an instant, had one of Eliot’s arms, his shoulder and both of his legs on top of him and, judging by the look on his face and the indignant sounds he was making, no idea how it had happened. But just as soon as Eliot let his guard down, he felt Quentin's fingers jam into his ribs, tickling aggressively. 

Eliot started laughing, curling into a ball and freeing Quentin who paused for a moment, unsure of what was coming next. A moment was all Eliot needed to throw himself on top of Quentin, straddling his hips and holding him still with his knees while gathering both of his hands to pin them above his head with one of his own. 

Eliot leaned above Quentin, grinning. “You better be careful, Coldwater. I know all your weaknesses.” As he watched, Quentin’s laughter stilled in to something softer and more intense. Eliot hovered above him, his brain spinning out trying to imagine the consequences of both courses of action available to him. He could throw himself off of Quentin, curl up and go to sleep, saying he was tired. Yes, it might be a bit awkward but they would certainly get over it quickly enough. But then he wouldn’t get to kiss Quentin. And Quentin was right there and he was giving him that look. And Quentin was his favorite person to kiss. Out of everyone he’d ever kissed. But if he started all that up again, it would just give Quentin another chance to reject him. Not that he thought Quentin planned these things that way. But the next pretty girl that came along, Quentin would be lost to him again. That was just the way things were.

There was a third option. Eliot could play chicken, toe the line, see how close he could get to the fire without getting burned. He leaned down slowly, watching Q’s eyes carefully watching them grow wider with every millimeter closer Eliot moved. Q’s lips had fallen open ever so slightly and did he know how incredible he looked when all the worry and sadness melted away and just left his soul shining for Eliot to see?

He veered slightly to the left, nuzzling in to Q’s neck. He ran his cheek from Q’s jaw down to his neck, enjoying the rasp of his stubble against his skin. He was about to place one small kiss at the curve of his neck in to his shoulder when he he heard Q inhale sharply, almost as if he were in pain. 

 

Eliot raised himself up quickly, unpinning Q’s hands. He looked at Q’s face and saw the look of anguish and the tears pooling in his eyes. He sat up quickly, swinging his leg over to sit next to Quentin, wanting to touch, to comfort him but not sure if it would only make things worse.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, Q. I shouldn’t have. Old habits are hard to break.” He let out a half heart chuckle, wanting desperately to take back the past minute and return things to their previous arrangement.

Quentin sat up, knees folded up to his chest. He pressed his palms in to his eyes and rubbed his forehead, taking a few shuddering breaths. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. He looked at Eliot with red, still wet eyes and a smile so sad, it was almost a grimace. Eliot’s stomach flipped so hard, he felt like he was about to throw up. Because he had put that look on Quentin’s face. Quentin who had suffered so much already. Quentin who he loved. 

Some of what he was feeling must have shown on Eliot’s face because Quentin reached out a hand to touch Eliot’s arm. “It’s ok, El,” he said and now he was fucking comforting Eliot. 

Eliot did his best to school his face into a neutral emotion. The last thing he wanted was for Q to feel bad when it was clearly Eliot who had made the mistake. “No, I understand,” he said, patting Quentin’s hand. “I shouldn’t have crossed the line. I know that’s not what you want.”

Quentin turned his hand so he could intertwine his fingers with Eliot’s. He stared into Eliot’s face with a searching look. “It’s not that I don’t want, want this,” he said, squeezing Eliot’s hand. “It’s just, you know, Arielle. I loved her and I… But you were here first. And sometimes, I wonder if being with Arielle was the right thing. And it feels so terrible to think about. And you’re here and I..” He broke his hand away from Eliot’s, reaching up to run his hands through his hair in frustration. "And it just feels so terrible. I feel so..." 

Eliot watched miserably, his heart breaking, to see Quentin in such pain and to know he had any part in it. “Really,” he said, less to comfort Quentin and more as an excuse to turn away from the anguish on his face. “I understand. You don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to.” 

Quentin nodded. 

“I can sleep in my own bed tonight, if you want,” said Eliot. “Or, I can…”

“Stay,” said Quentin. He laid down, curling himself in to a tight ball, facing from Eliot. 

Eliot laid down, curling away from Quentin. Hours after Quentin had fallen asleep. Eliot was still awake, curled into himself, eyes open, staring into the darkness with Quentin’s distraught face hovering before his eyes.  
***  
Quentin seemed to go back to his normal self quickly. But he kept some distance around Eliot. He still touched Eliot sometimes, on the shoulder or the arm but his touches were softer and more fleeting. 

Eliot continued sleeping in Quentin’s bed, or tried to sleep in Quentin’s bed. Instead, he lay there, trying to keep his body still though frenetic energy pulsed through his limbs that made him want to jiggle his feet or get up and pace around the room. His mind was a whirlwind of every negative possibility that occurred to him.

It was a week before Quentin noticed or at least before he commented on it. He was sitting at the work table outside, copying the latest pattern when Eliot stepped out of the cottage in to the dazzling sunshine. In the bright sunlight, Quentin could see just how dark and sunken the circles under Eliot’s eyes had become. 

He stood before Eliot, his hands moving up and then jerking to a stop. He stared in to Eliot’s, bloodshot eyes. “Are you feeling ok?” Quentin asked. 

“I’m fine,” said Eliot, a bit too defiantly. 

“Ok,” said Quentin, stepping back. “I just have to go pick up Teddy today but if you’re not feeling well…”

“I’m fine,” said Eliot, cutting Quentin off.

“Ok,” said Quentin, ducking his head and looking apologetic. 

As he watched Quentin walk away, Eliot felt absolutely furious with him. Furious for prying and noticing Eliot’s exhaustion but even more furious that, having noticed it, Quentin was still walking away. Even though, the rational part of his brain told him quietly, that he had told Quentin he was fine. 

He stormed in to the cottage and began clearing off his bed. Since he began sharing a bed with Quentin, his own smaller bed had become a catch all for Teddy’s toys, clothes that Eliot needed to repair and papers covered with mosaic patterns and Teddy’s scribbles. He moved the stacks of clothes in to baskets and put all of Teddy’s toys in to a box that had been decided as the toy box but still spent more time empty than full. He took his red velvet bed cover out and shook it, then fluffed the pillows. And still fuming, he sat down in front of the fire to drown his sorrows the best way he knew how. 

Eliot heard Quentin and Teddy approaching long before they reached the cottage. The sun had just gone down and the light seeping through the windows was the watery blue of twilight. It was late enough in the day that Eliot could semi reasonably be asleep. So he jumped into his bed, turned towards the wall pulling the covers up to his ears. He couldn’t face the two of them now but he would be able to in the morning.


	5. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot goes on an adventure!
> 
> I just want Eliot to have a little fun. I think he deserves that.
> 
> This one took a few twists and turns but I'd love to know what you guys think!

“I need to leave,” said Eliot.

They were sitting on the quilt covered mosaic, surrounded by lanterns, drinking from their mugs. Just as they had done on every anniversary since they’d started the mosaic. This year, Quentin had lighted the lanterns and then had to all but pull Eliot out of the cottage where he had been sitting on the floor next to the trundle bed, watching Teddy sleep.

“Leave?” asked Quentin, looking in to Eliot’s face, doing the intense eye contact thing that made Eliot feel like Quentin was looking in to his soul. 

Eliot looked down at his mug and nodded. He cleared his throat. “I just need a little time by myself. It’s been really… intense here,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah,” said Quentin. They sat in silence for a long time. Eventually, Quentin asked, “How long?”

“I’m not sure,” said Eliot, staring intently at his hands, knowing how much harder this would be if he had to look at Quentin. “A few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“Ok,” said Quentin, nodding. Eliot glanced up at Quentin who swallowed hard, his mouth twisting in to a hard line. “When?” asked Quentin.

“Tomorrow, I think,” said Eliot. 

Quentin nodded his head again, a little too fast. He reached out and took Eliot’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been difficult for you. You’ve done so much for us,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the palm of Eliot’s hand. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You know I’ll always be here for you, right?” said Eliot, pulling Quentin against his chest and kissing his hair. “I just need some time to take care of myself too.” 

“I know,” said Quentin. “And you know, if you need anything from me, just tell me, ok?”

“I’m telling you now, Q,” said Eliot. They sat together until the lanterns began to burn themselves out, Quentin’s head against Eliot’s chest and Eliot running his fingers through Quentin’s hair.

***

The sun was still low in the sky and the dew still sparkled on the grass the next morning as Eliot said goodbye to his family. He picked up Teddy and hugged him tightly, his little arms winding around his neck. Eliot held him close for a long moment. He planned not to be gone longer than a month but he had seen how much Teddy could grow in that time. When he came home, Teddy may have become a different child. 

“Ok, I need to say goodbye to your daddy now,” said Eliot, setting Teddy down. He wasn’t crying but there was an odd look of determination on his little face that Margo would have been proud of. 

Eliot turned to Quentin, whose face was wrinkled with sadness, a look Eliot had seen far too many times. He’d barely held out his arms before Q walked in to them, laying his head on Eliot’s chest. Eliot rested his chin on the top of Q’s head wondering, not for the first time, how he found someone who fit him so perfectly, who made him feel so whole. He pushed these thoughts away, knowing that if he dwelt on it, he would never get himself to leave. And he needed some time away, to reign in his emotions, to get himself back under control before he did something incredibly stupid that would fuck up his and Q’s relationship forever.

Eventually, he gave Q one final kiss on the top of his head and pulled away. Quentin was starting to get the shiny eyed look that meant he was probably about to start crying. Eliot felt a pang of guilt at leaving him, only just over a year after his wife’s death. But this was something he had to do.

He knelt down to give Teddy one final hug and then turned to walk away into the woods. His eyes began to sting with his own rising tears and he focused his eyes ahead and through the trees. 

“Bye, bye Ewiot!” Teddy called out from behind him, substituting the ‘L’ for a ‘W’, a habit Eliot had been trying to break him of for months but secretly thought was adorable. 

As he entered the trees and knew the cottage would only be visible for a few more moments, he allowed himself to turn around for one final look and wave goodbye.

***

Eliot walked for days, following paths at random. He’d ended up fairly lost after the first morning of walking in a daze of sadness and not paying any attention to the direction he was going. Eventually, he realized he was headed toward Sutton, a town on the coast of the Western Sea. He’d heard of it as High King but had never actually visited but it seemed like a good enough destination. He could walk there in just about two weeks, rest up for a few days and then return, maybe catching a ride in a carriage on the return trip.

It felt good to walk until he couldn’t any more and then find a secluded spot to sleep. The fact that he was able to sleep a solid and restful nine hours on a pile of dead leaves, when he’d had a hard time recently sleeping even six hours in a bed, was a miracle to him.

Eventually, he reached the town of Sutton, the first place even approaching a city that he had visited in years. The number of people and animals roaming the streets, carrying baskets or boxes or pulling carts was almost overwhelming. 

He arrived in the mid morning and the first thing he did was take himself on a quick tour, paying special attention to the taverns and inns he passed along the way. He noticed one large, white stone house that must belong to the local lord. The rest of the buildings were more modest wooden constructions though most where clean and cheery looking.

Eliot was in the mood for something a little more interesting than clean and cheery. 

As evening neared, he passed a tavern by the docks that was a little more rundown than most of the other buildings in this town. But the setting sun across the water was gilding the peeling paint with gold and he could hear the strains of fiddle music above the bustle of the people inside, so he walked in. 

Inside the pub was cozy with warm wood paneling and a low ceiling. The flickering of the lanterns hid the imperfections and made everything shine. It reminded Eliot of being in the hull of the Muntjac.

He sat at the bar and ordered a drink from the well groomed, older gentleman tending the bar. 

“That’ll be two bits,” the bartender said, sliding an iron tankard across the bar.

“I’ll start a tab,” replied Eliot. “I’ll be here a while.” The bartender nodded and moved off to help another customer.

“Rough day?” asked a gruff voice to Eliot’s right. His right foot, to be precise.

Eliot looked down and saw an old golden retriever sitting on the floor at the end of the bar, his paws cradling an earthenware dish which appeared to be full of some sort of ale. 

“Oh, not too bad,” said Eliot. “You?”

“Same old, same old,” said the dog. “You know, work. The wife. The pups. The names Marty, by the way.”

Eliot nodded. “Eliot.” He reached out a hand to shake on impulse and was very pleased when Marty sat up and reached a paw in to his hand to shake. There was something absurd about listening to a wizened old golden retriever with a greying snout complain about his home life while lapping up beer. It was moments like this that Eliot actually could understand Quentin’s obsession with Fillory, just a little bit. 

“So, what is it you do?” asked Eliot, partly out of curiosity and partly in the hopes of listening to a dog complain about an annoying boss.

“I’m in sales,” said the dog. 

“How’s that going for you?” asked Eliot.

This sent Marty in to a long tirad about a demanding boss and annoying coworker. It was like watching an episode of the ‘Office’ but with dogs instead of people. If Eliot ever got back to Earth, he would pitch that TV show to whoever would listen. 

When he got back to Q and Teddy, he would tell them this story word for word.

Eliot ordered his second drink in the middle of Marty’s recitation but as Eliot ordered his third, the dog stopped and looked at him, a bit too critically for a golden retriever essentially drinking off the floor. “What’s got you drowning your sorrows?” he asked Eliot.

Eliot sighed, planning to say ‘Oh, nothing. Just relaxing after a long day’ but instead heard himself say, “Oh, nothing. Just trying to get over the love of my life.” Either his alcohol tolerance had gone way down or these beers were very strong. 

The dog looked at him with appraising eyes, nodding slowly. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“Well, I started by walking to the other side of the continent,” said Eliot.

“Smart,” said Marty. “Pack up and start fresh.” 

“No, I didn’t leave him. I just needed to get away for awhile but I’m going back.”

“Love doesn’t die easy, especially when the person you love in front of you everyday,” said Marty. “You should stay away as long as you can.”

Eliot shook his head. “I can’t. I need to go back. He doesn’t have anyone else and he has a kid. And we started something together that we have to finish.”

“Well, do you want my advice then?” asked Marty.

“Sure,” said Eliot. 

“Don’t try to hide what you feel. If you have to be around him, it’s better to tell him what you’re feeling than let things sour. Yeah, it might fuck everything up or it might not. But at least you’ll know.”

“Thank you,” said Eliot. 

Eventually, the dog wandered out of the pub, swaying slightly as he walked. Eliot got a room on his tab and crashed on the bed, sleeping late in to the next day.

***

Eliot spent the next few days at the tavern, sleeping until the early afternoon, walking around through the town or sitting by the water and coming back to the bar to drink. Marty joined him a few more times and he was grateful to have a familiar face.

One night, as he entered the bar, he realized it was much more crowded than usual, filled with loud and crude men and women in suspiciously swashbuckling gear.

Eliot took a seat at the far end of the bar, where he could observe and nurse a drink without calling attention to himself. If there was one thing he’d learned in Filllory, it was give pirates a wide berth. 

He watched the pirates as they chased wenches in low cut dresses, knocked back hard liquor like it was water and compared swords. It was like being on the Pirates ride at Disney World. Everything was movement and madness in the flickering lights of the lanterns in the low ceiling room. It seemed everyone was in on the action, except--

A large man pushed himself off his stool to stagger outside revealing a blond man Eliot hadn’t seen before. He was dressed in a billowy black shirt and very tight black pants. He leaned against the bar and surveyed the room, a point of stillness amongst the carousing crew.

Eliot let himself look, enjoying the effortless sweep of the man's body, lounging against the bar. Eliot hadn’t really considered this method of getting over Q but it couldn’t hurt, could it? 

And this man was the exact opposite of Q in every way. Long and lean, probably almost as tall as Eliot himself, blue eyes and full lips. The only similarity was in the long shaggy hair though the stranger’s hair was golden rather than brown. 

The stranger looked in Eliot’s direction and Eliot smiled just a little bit. The man did a double take and then looked Eliot up and down, smiling as well.

Eliot cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the empty seat beside him and then back to the stranger in black. And the stranger was moving towards Eliot, gliding gracefully across the room and skillfully dodging pirates and their various weapons and appendages on the way.

He slid in to the seat at Eliot’s side. 

“Hi,” said Eliot, turning to the stranger and reaching out a hand. “Eliot”

“Robert,” said the main, taking Eliot’s in a firm grip. He glanced at the crowded pub. “Wild night.” 

“Oh yes,” said Eliot, turning back to his drink. “It’s just a little too Pirates of the Caribbean for my taste.”

“Well, life on the sea isn’t for everyone. And the parrots can be a bloody nuisance,” said Robert lightly. He glanced at Eliot and smiled sweetly.

“Don’t tell me you’re a pirate and I’ve gone an insulted you,” said Eliot, beginning to smile as well.

“Oh, I’m not only a pirate, I’m the captain,” said Robert.

“A captain? That’s impressive. I bet you have some interesting stories to tell,” said Eliot, playfully touching Robert’s arm as he spoke. 

“I do in fact,” said Robert, leaning closer to Eliot and resting a hand on his knee. “It’s very loud in here though.”

“I have a room,” said Eliot. “It would be a lot quieter there.”

“Lead the way,” said Robert, sliding off his stool.

Eliot walked quickly, not wanting to seem to eager but also feeling very eager. Robert seemed to be feeling similarly based on how he was walking so close behind Eliot that he occasionally stepped on his heel.

Eliot led the way in to his room, shut the door and immediately turned towards Robert, moving slowly closer like a cat stalking its prey. Robert inched backward, meeting Eliot’s eye with a mysterious grin, until he was leaning against the door. Eliot continued moving closer until he was in Robert’s space. 

“So, piracy?” he said softly, leaning in to Roberts ear. “What’s that like?”

“A little pillaging, some plundering,” said Robert, putting a hand on Eliot’s hips and pulling him closer. He put his other hand on Eliot’s neck, steadying him as he began to lean in. Eliot pulled back.

“You should know, I’m trying to get over someone right now,” Eliot blurted out. 

Robert pulled back to look at Eliot in the eye. He radiated such serious compassion that Eliot almost wished they weren’t about to hook up so he could tell this man all his problems instead. But only one of those things was likely to happen and this man was absolutely smoking. 

“Aren’t we all?” asked Robert, after a moment of contemplation. He began to move in again but Eliot held back, needing to make things clear.

“This is really going to be just a one night thing,” said Eliot.

“That’s perfect,” said Robert. “The Revenge sails in the morning anyway.”

Eliot moved in, placing a hand on Robert’s neck and skimming a thumb across his jaw. He leaned down slightly and kissed him gently at first but then with mounting intensity. He could feel Robert’s hands sliding under his shirt and running up his back. Eliot slid his hands down Robert’s shoulders and down to grasp his arms. He turned them slowly and began walking Robert backward to the foot of the bed.

Robert sat on the bed and pulled Eliot down so they could continue kissing but Eliot pulled away. He stood tall, the man in black sitting before him, leaning back on his arms, his hair tousled and his lips pink. Eliot smiled mischievously and began untying the lace at the collar of Robert’s shirt. He loosened it enough to pull it over Robert’s head and flung it to the side. He pushed gently at Robert’s shoulders and he collapsed back in to the bed willingly.

He moved in to the bed, kneeling over Robert as he lay sprawled on the blanket. He ran his hands down Robert’s side, watching as Robert shivered. And Eliot’s mind suddenly transported him back to his cottage in the wood and the last time he had knelt over a man like this. Q’s laughing face and then that heated look in his eyes for just a moment before his face fell.

He blinked and looked down to see Robert looking at him with the beginning of worry, one of his hands moving to cover Eliot’s where it lay on his chest. “Is everything alright?”

Eliot forced his mind back to the present, back to the gorgeous man here with him now. He wasn’t Q but Q wasn’t his. 

“Everything’s fine,” said Eliot, as he leaned forward to kiss Robert again.

***

The next morning, Eliot woke early to see Robert move around the room collecting scattered clothing, boots and swords. Eliot watched openly as Robert dressed and added the final touch, his sword belt, clearly posing as he buckled it. Eliot appreciated that extra little touch. 

Before he left, Robert came back to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning over Eliot to kiss him one last time.

“I hope whoever it is you’re trying to get over comes to their sense and realizes what they’re missing,” said Robert. And then he was out the door.

Eliot stretched contently. He was really feeling pretty good. Now he just wanted to get home. 

***

Eliot made better time on the return trip since he knew where he was going this time. He even got a ride on a carriage at one point. So after a week on the road, he was well over half way home.

After a long day of walking, Eliot was sitting at the base of a tree, eating some bread he had bought in the last village. The shadows were long but he had not yet drawn his wards for sleep, thinking he might still walk a little further. The fireflies were beginning to come out and he was lulled by their looping flight when he suddenly heard a crack of a branch to his left. He turned his head in the direction of the noise and a moment later felt something heavy slam into the back of his head. 

He was only vaguely aware of being lifted into a wagon. As the wagon began to move, he drifted into darkness. 

He awoke to darkness. He was laying in the wagon on his side, his hands tied to a metal post on the side of the wagon and his feet tied together. He began to panic, fear turning his stomach to lead and tying knots in throat. He tried to calm himself down. He couldn’t hear anyone nearby so he seemed to be alone for the moment and he needed to take this opportunity because there was no guarantee another would come a long. 

He breathed in and out with long shaky breaths, trying to slow his breathing and clear his mind. It wasn’t really helping so instead he tried to concentrate on what he could see in front of him. Thick ropes and solid metal. Ropes tied tight but not impossibly so. He could loosen them if he just pulled in the right way. He wasn’t a Physical Kid for nothing.

He moved his fingers, suddenly grateful for the hours, no days, that Mayakovsky had forced them to tie and untie knots. 

The angle was off but it still only took him a few minutes to get the knot off his hands. 

He sat up slowly and moved to begin working on the knots at his ankles when he glanced to his left and realized he wasn’t alone in the wagon. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. A women and a young girl, only a little older than Teddy, were unconscious and tied up as he had been. He couldn’t just untie himself and leave them there.  
At that moment, he heard voices heading in his direction, at least three of them, complaining about having to ride through the night.

Eliot lay back down in the wagon, turning his body to cover his hands so they could not see that he had untied himself. The voices approached the wagon and Eliot felt it shift as people climbed up. Then he heard the crack of a whip and the wagon set off.

Eliot chanced a look up at the front of the wagon. It seemed that the three men were facing forward and passing a flask between them. Under cover of darkness and the noise of the wagon speeding along the potholed road, Eliot turned himself over to face the woman laying next to him. 

He reached out and covered her mouth, as he had seen done in so many movies, and hoped this would work. Then he began shaking her arm. Eventually, she woke and Eliot saw her eyes flash open and her body go stiff. He took his hand away from her mouth and moved to whisper in her ear. She nodded and turned toward him so that he could untie her ropes. They both began untying their ankles as well, one watching for the other to make sure the men in the wagon didn’t see them wiggling around to reach their ankles. Then the woman moved to wake her daughter and untie her. 

Once they were untied, they laid down again, pretending to still be unconscious. Eliot leaned forward to whisper in the woman’s ear, “Once we begin to slow down, on my signal, jump off the back of the wagon and just start running.” The woman nodded, looking frightened and determined.

The wagon continued to roll through the dark night. They were moving too fast for the woman and her daughter to get off safety and be in any state to run away. So, they waited in the wagon. Eliot had no idea what direction they were heading in but with his luck, probably not in the direction of the cottage and Teddy and Quentin. Eliot hadn’t thought about Quentin once since the moment he’d been struck in the head and hauled into the wagon. But with nothing to occupy his mind except waiting for the wagon to slow, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about him now. 

Quentin was probably starting to worry a bit. Eliot had said he would be no longer than a month and he had passed that time the several days before. He had hoped he would only be a few days late but he knew Q would have been counting down and would have started worrying as soon as a month had passed. 

Q had had so much to worry about, so much to grieve and Eliot didn’t want to add himself to the list. He pictured Q on the morning he’d left, the sadness and the pain crossing his face because of Eliot’s actions. Again and again. It seemed like everything he did hurt Q more.

Which was awful. Because Eliot loved him. Every moment that Q suffered was like a knife to Eliot’s heart. He would do anything to keep Quentin from the pain of the world. And yet Eliot seemed to cause so much of it by over thinking or acting impulsively. 

His thoughts were beginning to spiral and he could feel his heart rate picking up. He tried to calm himself, to think happy thoughts. He imagined returning to the cottage. He imagined coming back to the cottage on a warm evening, Quentin and Teddy at the table eating dinner. He imagined holding Quentin in his arms. He imagined telling him that he loved him. 

But would telling him make things worse or better? Would it make Q happy because he felt the same way or would it cause him pain because he didn’t feel the same way about Eliot? The argument Eliot had been having with himself for months picked back up right where it had left off the last time. But then he thought of what Marty had told him. It was better to tell Quentin how he felt than to let his feelings sour. He was a wise old dog who really seemed to know what he was talking about. Maybe Eliot should do it. 

Eliot squeezed his eyes shut tight. ‘If I see you again,’ he thought, picturing Q’s face as clearly as he could. ‘If I see you again, I will tell you how I truly feel.’

Minutes or hours later, Eliot felt a shift in the rocking of the wagon as it began to slow. The sun was beginning to rise and he could see the trees around them clearly now, though the colors of the woods were still muted in the early morning light. He waited for a few moments, watching the passage of the trees and yes, it seemed that they were slowing. 

Eliot turned toward the woman next to him. Her eyes were on him waiting for his signal. He turned himself around so that he was laying on his front, his head toward the front of the wagon. He looked at the woman and mouthed, ‘Ready, set, go.’

She pulled her daughter to the back of the wagon, sliding to the end. They were both almost out when he saw one of the men turn to look. Eliot was on his feet in an instant. He laced his fingers together, pulled back and blasted the man to the right, knocking him off the wagon. Before the men were completely turned around and aware of what was happening, Eliot had blasted the man to the right off the front of the wagon. 

The man seated in the middle began to reach for something at his side, a dagger or a sword, but Eliot hit him with his final spell, sending him over the front of the wagon. Eliot leapt off the side of the wagon, stumbling but kept his footing and ran into the forest. 

He tried to run in the direction the woman and her daughter had gone, hoping to catch up with them but wasn’t sure exactly which way they had gone. After several minutes of running, it was clear that the men weren’t following him.

He walked for several hours, until the sun was high in the sky, found an outcropping of rock to huddle under, set his wards and feel asleep.

When he next awoke, it was dark again. He was sore, his head hurt and he was hungry and thirsty. And pretty much lost. He thought about his options for a moment and deciding sleeping was the best one at the moment. So he lay back down and tried to fall back asleep.

He woke again to the sound of early morning birds. It was light enough that he could see where he was walking so he set off. It took him until the early afternoon to find a village where he could get something to eat and drink and get his bearings. 

The following morning, he set off, once again on the path back to the cottage.


	6. Autumn Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot finally gets to come home again!

After almost a solid week of walking, Eliot was finally home.

He rounded the corner of the path and could see the roof of the cottage. He was strangely nervous considering he was coming back to the home and the people he had known for years. He sped up, nearly running and moments later, he was through the tree line and standing in the clearing. 

Teddy was sitting in the middle of a completed mosaic bending over a paper, coloring or practicing letters. Eliot began walking towards him. “Teddy,” he called out, surprised at the waiver in his voice. 

Teddy looked up and paused for a moment before yelling, “Eliot!” and leaping to his feet, running at full speed towards him.

Eliot let go of his bag and dropped to his knees, catching Teddy as he barreled into him. Eliot gathered him up in his arms, cradling his head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes knowing that it was too late to stop the tears from coming. Teddy had grown so much in the time he had been gone. He knew there were so many things he had missed, so many memories he wouldn’t get back.

Eliot heard footsteps running towards him and opened his eyes to see Quenting running across the grass and sliding to his knees, nearly knocking Eliot over and then Quentin was there, wrapping his arms around them both. Eliot shifted Teddy to the side so he could gather Quentin in to his chest. He looked down at him, wanting to see his face but he had buried it in Eliot’s shirt. He was shaking but Eliot couldn’t tell if it was with laughter or tears. 

He knelt on the ground for long moments, long past when his knees began to ache, holding them both. 

Eventually, Teddy began to move. He began to tap Quentin on the head. “Daddy, stop crying,” he said and then leaned over to kiss Quentin on the head. 

Eliot laughed. “Yeah, Daddy,” and he kissed Quentin too. Q finally looked up at that. His eyes were red but he was smiling. 

“You know it weirds me out when you call me that, right?” he asked, still smiling.

“Oh, but it’s so much fun to watch you squirm,” replied Eliot, setting Teddy down.

Quentin stood up, holding out his hand to Eliot. Eliot stood and Quentin folded him into a crushing hug, the kind of hug where it seemed to Eliot that Quentin forgot which of them was significantly taller and was trying to completely surround him. 

“It’s so good to see you,” said Quentin after a moment, squeezing Eliot just a little tighter. Then he suddenly pulled back and pushed Eliot in the shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry, Q,” said Eliot, looking down. “I got held up. There were bandits or kidnappers or something. “ He looked back up to see Quentin’s anger fading away. 

“Oh,ok,” said Quentin, reaching out to squeeze Eliot’s arm. “Of course, you wouldn’t have been gone that long if you could help it. I’m just glad you’re finally home.”

***

That night, after dinner, Eliot told Quentin and Teddy the story of his adventures. They were all sitting on the floor in front of the fire, Teddy’s head on his lap and Quentin at his side. He did leave out a few things, like Robert. The moment was too precious and he didn’t want to risk ruining it just yet. As he spoke, he promised himself he would tell Quentin. Just, later.

Teddy fell asleep quickly so Eliot told Quentin about being kidnapped and about the woman and the young girl in whispers to keep from waking Teddy. As he spoke, Q moved closer to him until they were leaning together. 

“And then I had to walk the rest of the way here,” finished Eliot. He could feel Quentin nodding his head into Eliot’s shoulder. He stilled and sat for a moment when his head stilling leaning on Eliot’s shoulder. Finally, he sighed and began to stand. 

“Should we go have a drink outside?” Quentin asked. “It’s probably not going to be warm enough for that for much longer.” 

“Sure, Q.”

Quentin knelt down and carefully picked up Teddy from Eliot’s lap. Eliot stood and looked at Quentin holding a sleeping Teddy, with the little boys cheek resting on Quentin’s shoulder, his eyes shut and face peaceful. Quentin moved to hand Teddy to Eliot. “You can tuck him in if you want to,” he said. “He really missed you.”

Eliot nodded, taking Teddy from Quentin, realizing, no matter what happened, he was truly grateful for his little family.

Eliot sat by Teddy’s bed for several minutes after he tucked him in. He was watching him sleep but also stealing his courage. He’d promised himself he would tell Quentin and now was the time to do it. It had to be now before they got back into their comfortable rhythm and just became too easy not to.

He stood and walked out of the cottage. Quentin had lit the lanterns and was sitting at the table but he stood when he saw Eliot and walked over to him. 

He stopped in front of Eliot and looked up at him. “Hey,” he said, giving Eliot a calm yet determined look. 

“Hey,” replied Eliot, smiling a little, his stomach doing tiny, quick summersaults. Quentin was standing close enough to touch but he hadn’t moved to actually touch Eliot yet. He seemed to be waiting for some sort of sign from Eliot. “Q, I..”

“El, I…” said Q, interrupting him. Eliot stopped speaking, waiting to hear what Quentin would say, hope fluttering through his entire body.

“El,” Quentin began again. “I have to tell you something, before I lose my nerve. So, can I, uh, just say it?”

Eliot nodded, his brain stuttering to guess what Quentin would say, hope and fear swirling around in his chest. 

One of Quentin’s hands went to the front of his hair and began pulling at it the way he only does when he’s incredibly nervous. Eliot wanted to reach out and pull his hand away and hold it steady. But his own hands were starting to shake and the rest of his body seemed frozen so he just wait for Q to say what he was going to say. 

“Eliot, I don’t know exactly why you went away or what you were hoping to do while you were gone. But I’ve had a lot of time to think while you were away. To think about us. And there is no one in this world that I would rather be here with than you. Even before we came here, I sometimes felt like there was something between us. Or maybe hoped? Because you have always kind of been my idea of a storybook king. I think that’s why maybe Fillory picked you to be high king, you’ve just always had it in you. And I’ve, I’ve always felt like the jester. So, part of me wanted you but another part of me told myself not to hope. But then we came here and it was just the two of us. And I realized that there isn’t anyone I would have wanted to be here with except you. Not Alice, not even Julia, though I miss them all the time. Without you, I couldn't have been as happy as I’ve been.”

So I guess, what I’m saying is I want to be with you. All the way. And if you want that too, I can promise that no one will ever come between us again.” 

Eliot’s brain was blinking out but Quentin’s hands where on his shirt collar, pulling him down and then Eliot was leaning and then their lips met and nothing else mattered. ‘I love you,’ Eliot thought. ‘I should tell you.’ But then Quentin’s arms were wrapped around him, strong and secure and, ‘Surely, he knows,’ Eliot thought. 

Quentin was taking charge and Eliot let him, excited to see a side of him that he hadn’t before. Quentin had never been passive before by any means but he had always seemed happy to have Eliot take the lead.

Quentin pulled back from the kiss, smiling at Eliot and pulling him over to the bed under the stars. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Eliot down after him. Eliot leaned over him, kissing him. Quentin put his hands on Eliot’s hips, pulling him down until he was kneeling in Quentin’s lap. Eliot couldn’t help it as habit took over and he began inching Quentin backwards, wanting to have him laid out beneath him.

But Quentin remained solid, putting a hand on Eliot’s chest pressing Eliot up, and then pushing him down on to the bed. And then, Q was on top of him, his weight solid and comforting against his body. He had one hand tangled in Q’s hair and the other rubbing up and down his back as Q alternated between kissing him full on the mouth and nuzzling and kissing up and down his neck. 

Suddenly, Q raised himself up, sitting back on his heels. He began to unbutton his shirt but Eliot reached up to stop him. This evening had seemed like a fresh start for them but he needed to tell Q one thing first. He sat up, holding Q’s hands and looking him in the eye. 

“Q, I have to tell you something and I’m hoping that this doesn’t royally fuck up everything because God knows I want this so bad, I can’t believe I’m even going to tell you but-” he paused for breath. Quentin looked like he was starting to freak out, his eyes getting wide. So, Eliot decided to rip of the bandage. “I slept with someone else while I was gone.”

Quentin let out a shaky breath. He began to pull his hands away, probably to comb through his hair but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he held tighter to Eliot’s hands. “How many times?” he asked.

“Just once.”

Quentin thought for a moment. “Did it mean anything to you?” 

Eliot shook his head. “No! I was just… I just thought maybe getting over you would be the best thing for us and maybe that would help.” Eliot chanced a small smile. “It wasn’t and it didn’t.”

A look of relief washed over Quentin’s face and then he was smiling back at Eliot. “Our road to get here has been weird and rocky. But we’re here now and this is exactly where I want to be.” And then he leaned forward to kiss Eliot again, pushing him back on to the bed. 

Several minutes later, Eliot lay on his back, looking up at the stars as Quentin kissed a path along his neck. He pulled gently at Quentin until he raised himself up to look at Eliot’s face. “This is exactly where I want to be, too.”

Q smiled and kissed him. ‘I love you, Quentin Coldwater,’ thought Eliot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter for now. I feel like I got to the end of the story I really was interested in. I was hoping to be able to come back to this story sometimes because I just love the setting and their life there together. Seriously, of all the beautiful sets in that show, this was my favorite. But, after all the shit went down, this place is no longer a happy, relaxing place for me to go. (As a chronic insomniac, I've always had go to places and stories to visit when I can't sleep. 'A Life in the Day' was that place fore me for a while but it's not anymore). 
> 
> If you've gotten this far, thank you all for reading the whole thing! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
